Undying Devotion
by Kribu
Summary: A moment in the life of Scapegrace and Thrasher. Or, well, to put it clearly, this is Thrashgrace. Crackfic. 6 x 100 word drabbles. I'm not entirely certain about the rating - there is nothing explicit, but sexual situations implied, so reader beware.


A/N: I apologise for this in advance. I was bitten by an evil plot bunny that _demanded_ Thrashgrace. So here it is; I hope that got it out of my system.

Many thanks to refya for beta-reading this.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, settings, the Skulduggery Pleasant universe or anything else that is recognisable from the books. I make no money from this.

* * *

Scapegrace was sulking.

His search for information – any information – on how to stop his body from decaying had finally led him to the library of China Sorrows. He'd only heard of China Sorrows before; he'd never actually seen her.

But now he had.

China had taken one look at him, at the library door, wrinkled her nose – her beautiful, beautiful, beautiful nose! – and told some lackey of hers to turn him, Vaurien Scapegrace, away.

She was … Well, she was the most beautiful person Scapegrace had ever laid eyes on.

He was in love. And China had turned him away.

xXx

"Am I really _so_ disgusting?" Scapegrace wailed.

Thrasher, his only remaining minion, raised his head. Surprise was evident in his face, or what was left of it. "No! Of course not. In fact, you are …" His voice trailed off.

Scapegrace couldn't help it. He was curious. Perhaps there was still a way to make China see him for what he was, even if he needed Thrasher's help to put it into words.

"In fact, I am …?" he prompted.

"Gorgeous," Thrasher whispered. "Wonderful. Amazing. My hero, the Killer Supreme."

Scapegrace tilted his head, careful not to overdo it. Interesting.

xXx

Scapegrace had never considered Thrasher in _that way_ before. He was, well, too much of a dull minion. And dead. And, honestly, not very attractive. Certainly nothing like China Sorrows.

But the adoration that made Thrasher's dull, dead eyes shine was hard to ignore.

And it wasn't the only thing that was hard.

Had he not been dead, Scapegrace knew he would have been blushing right now.

And, a little voice in his head whispered, it's not like you haven't touched him intimately before. Thrasher had, after all, been his first kill. You couldn't get much more intimate than that!

xXx

It would be good practice, Scapegrace told himself when he reached out and tentatively put his hand on Thrasher's knee. Once China understood – and she would! – any practice would come in useful.

He wondered, vaguely, why he couldn't blush, but yet seemed to have enough blood flowing through him for other bodily functions. One of the mysteries of being the mysterious, cool undead, he supposed.

The feeling of Thrasher's dry lips on his was unexpectedly not unpleasant. He was almost disappointed when they withdrew again.

"I'm sorry, sir," his minion said, his voice trembling. "That was too forward of me."

xXx

Scapegrace reminded himself to stay cool, calm and authoritative.

"It's alright," he soothed Thrasher. "It's my duty to make sure you're happy."

Not that he'd ever thought of it in those terms before, but he was responsible for the poor bastard, was he not? Without him, without the Killer Supreme on the prowl, Gerald the dull middle-aged mortal would still be leading his dull middle-aged mortal life, doing whatever it was that dull middle-aged mortals did. Accounting, probably.

He stood up, careful not to bang his head on the low roof of the van, and pulled Thrasher into his embrace.

xXx

For all his shabby dullness, Thrasher had a surprisingly firm grasp.

Scapegrace moaned appreciatively. "Just a little harder," he croaked, gasping for – well, he didn't know what he was gasping for, as he didn't actually need air, but it was what seemed to come naturally. "Just a little—"

"I'm sorry, sir!" Thrasher raised his hands to his face, covering them in shame. He dropped something; Scapegrace heard it fall on the floor with a dull thud.

He looked down.

Damn.

There went his chances to impress China.

"Where did I leave the stapler?" he asked with a resigned sigh.

_The End._


End file.
